


ANNABELLA

by Lia404



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Depression, F/M, Find the beauty in the ugliness, It Gets Better, Memory Loss, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Short snippets, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Write about what you hate, life goes on - Freeform, lots of feelings, memory recovery, slices of life and trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2020-06-27 12:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lia404/pseuds/Lia404
Summary: Annabella went through hell and back--but sometimes hell is just made of the claws of someone that should have cared for her and never really did.A story of trauma and recovery, through memories and feelings. Hell is just a stop on the path--and then the road goes on.





	1. Cover and Thanks

**Author's Note:**

> _ANNABELLA_ was first posted on Instagram as part of my DailyShort project (one short story a day for about six months). Each snippet was written separately in the course of eighteen days and posted along with a picture I took or drew myself, on [my Instagram account](https://www.instagram.com/lia.404/). The prompt of the whole story was given by one of my friend, who said "write about what you hate".  
> Sometimes life is the best prompt for stories.

To Annabelle M., who unknowingly was the key to all these short stories.

To Khaos, who gave the starting prompt: “Write about what you hate”.

To Soniop, Agathe et Marie, who followed Annabella’s evolution along the weeks. 

To Soniop, again, for the cover picture that initiated this whole publication project.

**And to all those who are preys to the roots of a Narcissus** ; it takes time, but you will get out someday. You will. Keep faith. You are beautiful. You belong only to yourself, and no one is allowed to take this yourself away from you. 


	2. 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabella opened her eyes and tried to gasp for air.  
She couldn’t move anymore. Her whole body and mind were obstructed. Nothing coming in, nothing getting out.  
She kept on living the same scene, again and again, and there was nothing she could do against it.

Water. Everywhere. Around her. Inside her.

She wanted to shout, to call for help, but water stole her breath. She gasped again and struggled, trying to break the heavy embrace of the sea around her, but she felt the weight increasing as she was slowly falling down... So cold... she wanted to shake the feeling off. She focused, felt her eyes tingle, and finally managed to unlock her arm. She raised her hand, trying to reach for some help, any kind. But it would never come.

There was no water. There was just her paralyzed body and her frozen mind, living the same moment over and over again. She felt colder and colder, sinking deeper and deeper, and she was ready to let go...

“Now, Annabella, now, open your eyes.”

Annabella opened her eyes and gasped for air.

The feeling of oxygen filling her lungs was the most amazing sensation she had ever experienced. She moved her arms, looked at herself. She was here. Cold, but breathing, shaken but alive.

“Doctor, when will it stop?”  
“It takes time, Annabella. A lot of time. Let's stop for today. Please, tell me if the dreams come back.”

They would. They came back every night. But every morning she woke up, and she felt the rush of oxygen in her lungs, and she cried.

It would take the time needed. At least she could still hang onto this feeling.

Breathing.


	3. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one in their right mind liked hospitals. Annabella was no exception.

She had been sent here, kicking and screaming, because there were so many things “to deal with” inside her.

“For your own good”.

She had cried and begged and shouted and implored but nothing could do. They had put her on a drip and now she had it under her skin, inside her veins.

She could feel it when she focused, running inside her. Drip, drop, drip, drop: a never-ending stream of unconsciousness flowing into her, depriving her from her own thoughts.

She hated it. It was as if she was learning how heavy her body could be, while she couldn't use her brains anymore.

She felt like sleeping, but she knew sleeping would lead her to drown once more.  
She couldn't really move: the perfusion in her arm was killing it. She could feel the bruise forming near her elbow. Surely that area would have turned yellow-or purple-or even black- by the time she managed to get out. If she managed to.

“Doctor, when will it stop?”  
“It takes time, Annabella. Lots of time. You have to do with it for a while; it will allow your mind to rest. Just focus on little things. It should help you find yourself back.”

There was nothing to do around. Nothing to focus on, really. The walls were white and the windows were sealed. Her body was too heavy to be lifted from the bed and her mind was blurred by the stream of medicine.

There was nothing to do except waiting. So she waited, letting the so-needed time drip inside her veins.

Tick. Tock.  
Drip. Drop.


	4. 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She read the page over and over again, bewildered. These were her words for sure, she recognized the handwriting. She just couldn't recognize what was described.

“September 15. Ate with a friend. Went out to buy fabric. Tried to work on an essay.”

Had she done those things? It was as if, for a time, someone else had lived her life. Someone she did not share any memory with.

Complete void in her mind. When she tried to focus and remember, only headaches came up--along with a strong urge to cry.

“It's not Tuesday, Annabella. It's Friday.” Was it?  
Where had Tuesday gone?

 _Something has happened. I don't know what. Trying to remember makes me feel like I'm about to die._  
Every time she slept it got worse.

“It's not Tuesday, Annabella. It's Saturday.”

Days went by and she lost them along.

_I'm vanishing. I don't exist anymore. My memory's gone._

When facing the date, she could just look at the paper with empty eyes, wondering what had happened with the whole week. Had she been sleeping?

“Don't you remember last month?”

She didn't. She forgot the people she had met, she forgot the parties she had attended, the things she had done.

So she wrote.

When meeting people who *knew* things that her memory didn't, she could open her notebook to find them back.

_Is this life mine?_

The doctor had said it would take time: she would keep on writing things down every night before sleeping, as long as needed.

Some things had started to come back, because people told her. Others had come back through nightmares, and she'd have rather not remembered.

She knew that there were some things that would never, ever come back.  
She also knew that she would never remember things as well as she did before.  
She would learn to live through it: if her mind didn't want to remember, surely there was a reason.  
  
But she really, really didn't want to forget anymore. She never wanted to wake up having lost another day.  
So Annabella wrote every evening. And every morning she read the words written by her own hand -the hand of a stranger.


	5. 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more she looked at it, the worse it got. It was vertiginous. How could she get such an amount of... THINGS? Books. Clothes. Music instruments. More books. More clothes. Dishes. Stuff impossible to sort.  
Stuff. Stuff. Stuff everywhere.

“What am I going to do with these?”

Dust was piling up on the boxes. It was as if everything had been fixed in time. She didn't even remember what was in there. It would be so much easier to just throw everything away without digging in, without having to face the memories, the odor, the jump back in...

“Annabella? Are you cleaning?”  
“I'm trying.”

She hadn't even started. She needed to do some cleaning in her mind before. And yet if she did, she would probably end up locked in, as usual.

She felt like screaming. All these tokens of the past were looking, laughing at her, singing an awful lullaby that brought her back, back, back...  
She tucked her head in her hands, trying to muffle the sounds that were going through her ears. Tough luck. Everything came from inside. She could not shut these images down. 

Opening only one box was beyond her. She just wanted to curl into a ball and try and stop the shaking of her body. She felt like vomiting. It was just way too present.

She had to get rid of it all. One way or another.

Annabella pondered. The medicine in her pocket was calling to her. Maybe this time, just this time, she would allow herself to run away. Or maybe the medicine would help shut her conscience down so she could dig through everything and clean it all up.

Or maybe... she didn't know. The feeling of illness wouldn't go away. She ran to the door and closed it. Maybe it was just too early yet.

Among all the things that would take time, Annabella knew this would be one of the longest. She didn't even need to ask her doctor this time.

But no matter how long it would take, Annabella knew that in the end there would be only one box left.


	6. 05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The keys fell upon the wooden board in a loud clatter.  
The walls repeated the sound, sending it right back to her ears. Her whole body grew tense.  
_Danger._  
  
Her heart went racing. She heard the door slam -but there was no door to slam -but the door still slammed and this noise also bounced on the walls and into her head.  
_I am going to die._  
  
She tried to get rid of the overwhelming sensation but it was too late. It came from inside her and kept growing until she could only see and feel the memory, until it was not a memory anymore, it was her everyday life all over again.  
  
_Danger._ He had put the keys on the table. He had slammed the door. He was back. She curled into a ball and started crying silently, trying not to make a sound, as if she wasn't here. She didn't want to see him, she didn't want to think of him, she felt as if water was getting into her lungs, she couldn't breathe anymore, she was choking but couldn't make a sound, she wanted to forget about his existence, she wanted to forget about her own existence, she was in pain, her whole body and mind were in pain, she started shaking, she felt so sick she could have puked, she just wanted to ignore it all, she just wanted to disappear, she just wanted to never be here anymore, she just wanted to forget everything and herself, she just, she just...  
  
“Annabella. Wake up. It's not true. It's in your mind. Get out of your mind.”

  
She jumped and screamed and kicked. But there was no one to kick. Memories over memories. The voice of the doctor imposed itself over the feeling of danger.

“You are not going to die. It's in your mind. Find your grasp back in reality.”  
  
Remembering the doctor's words, Annabella locked her eyes on the keys on the wooden board. Keys. Her keys. Hers. She could recognize their shape. She could recognize the keyrings. She detailed them. She knew them. They were hers, the ones from now, not back then, a “now” when there was no danger anymore.

No one had slammed the door. She had shut it when she had entered the room.

The clatter of keys had come from her. It was her hand that had let them down on the wooden board. She had made this sound. She was alone, and fine, and breathing, and the only danger was inside her head.  
  
She took a deep breath and focused. 

“These are mine. Everything will be fine.”

She grabbed the medicine in her pocket and gulped two pills down. She had stopped struggling against it; now she only followed her doctor's advice.  
She picked up her keys and sat down on the ground, her back against the wall. She let her mind wander, waiting for the meds to take effect.

“Everything will be fine. It just takes time. A lot of time.”


	7. 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Please answer. **Someone. Please. Answer**.”  
  
How many times had she kept looking at her phone, desperate for a message, a call?  
She had sworn to never fall back into it and yet here she was again.  
  
“Answer. **Someone** …”  
  
She had learnt, though. Don't ask one person. Ask the world. Wait. Be patient...she wasn't patient.  
But at least she stopped waiting for a special person to answer. No one was special enough to have such a power over her. No one would ever, ever, ever be. She would never let anyone, never again.  
  
But she needed to talk. Now.  
  
“Someone, come on, please...”  
  
Her phone calls had not been returned. She had just got out of the doctor's office.  
She had been going for a while but now, today, she had said... today, she really needed...  
  
Her head was killing her. She had been crying in the doctor's restroom for a while before getting out. And now there she was facing her phone and waiting waiting waiting the same way, not that long ago, she had been waiting so often for saviors to call her.  
  
Now she didn't look for a savior anymore. That was useless. But she had to speak. Not to the doctor. To someone. Anyone who knew her.  
  
The feeling was awful. But this time it was not anxiety. Just pain. And loss. And... her mind was racing.  
  
“Someone answer. Please...”  
  
Her phone rang, her heart almost burst.  
  
“Annabella? What's up? It's 9 in the morning!”  
“I know... I know. I am so sorry. It's just I... I...”  
  
She burst into tears.  
  
“I am so sorry. I just realized I tried to kill myself. Oh my God. I am so sorry. I tried to kill myself. I didn't just want to sleep. I didn't want to wake up. I attempted ~~_s u i c i d e_~~. I am so, so, so sorry.”  
  
She choked on words. She stuttered. She didn't even care who was there, if the person knew her at all. Words got out.  
For the first time in weeks, Annabella started saying them.


	8. 07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't shout. Please. Don't shout.‎ She knew what was going to happen now, and she was praying inside that this time would be different. But she was just lying to herself. It was always the same... Oh please please make him not shout.  
She couldn't stand it when people shouted.  
  
He was looking at her, clearly angry. She could have recognized that empty, cold, dark stare anytime. As if ready to kill.  
She was so scared. And yet she had to speak. And it would make things worse.‎   
  
“You don't understand. You never understand. Please... try to understand.”  
  
Soon he'd start saying that it was because SHE did something wrong.  
Soon he'd start shouting. Or maybe just crying. It was always her fault, even when she wasn't here.   
  
“No Annabella, _you_ don't understand. You don't even want to try anymore.”  
  
There. It had started. She refused to say anything more. It always got worse when she spoke. It got worse because she remained silent.  
  
He started shouting and she felt like dying inside. She didn't know why, what happened inside her at these time, but it was like a massive void, a pit of non-existence gulped her down. Her internal self fell and broke into shards and pieces. ‎  
  
So she started crying. And he shouted more. So she started shouting too. And then she howled and screamed to the top of her lungs. And she wouldn't let him say anything else, because it was not her fault this time. And he wanted to go on, and it was not him it was her as usual, and she couldn't stand it anymore, and she started shrieking a shriek so piercing that her voice didn't sound human anymore, turning her into a desperate banshee here to tear down those who make her suffer. Trying to tear him down with her voice. ‎   
  
“You're mad. I'm outta here.”  
  
And it was her fault again and no, no, no, not this time. She raised her fist and started to hit, still shrieking. She had lost it, maybe. But she couldn't be the one at fault anymore. He had faulted so many times.  
  
So she went on crying and shrieking and beating him up, bloody banshee seeking truth. ‎   
  
“Annabella? Annabella!”   
  
Knocks on the door flung her eyes open. The never-ending shriek died in her throat as she sat in her bed. ‎‎  
  
She had woken everyone up. Again. And despite knowing it was just another reminiscence, another dream, she still felt tainted. She could still smell the oneiric blood that had stained her fists. He had tried to destroy her, he had tried to drive her mad. And she had hit him. And that was the worst.  
  
She went to the bathroom to empty her stomach. This, too, would take time. If it ever passed. Nothing could cover the smell of blood, even in dreams.‎


	9. 08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was the first time she got back into a metro since... long ago. She hated it. The lack of oxygen, the smell, the oppressive closeness of the walls.  
  
She got in nevertheless.  
  
She could remember the days when she spent most of her time not seeing the sun in those never-ending corridors.  
How many times had she dreamt of those, of the noise of the metro and, worst of all, of the people around? She could feel their eyes on her, she saw the light in the men's eyes and she was so terrified that she could come to cross a look that would look like...  
Look like...  
  
The time she had spent in this place had been way too long.  
  
Her reason told her that there was nothing to trigger her here, and yet everything made her feel so tense. It was as if she was someone else. Too many people to face. Too many potential dangers. Her mind always had to figure out the worst case scenario. Each of her steps felt so heavy.  
  
How many hours, days, years had she lost in this kind of places, going from one place to another, losing her sanity, and yet not wanting to get back to a home where she wasn't welcome any more?  
  
She shook her head.  
It was over now. She was over it.  
  
“You're not over it, Annabella. It's normal. It takes time.”  
“But I want to be over it. I want to move forward.”  
“There are no shortcuts. You have to take the long way. But maybe you're ready to get back in. Maybe you can give it a try.”  
  
She had thought of it for a long time. She had got close to the entrance more than once, only to turn around before going.  
  
And now she was in. The spur of a moment. Maybe she would have a panic attack, maybe tomorrow she wouldn't be able to do the same. Hang on to the little things, the small victories, that's what really matters.  
  
  
This time there was no home to reach anymore, but who cared? She didn't want to reach anything anyway. She just wanted to walk.  
  
One more step in the long corridor and the dull light in the end, one more step forward in trying to find herself back.


	10. 09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes anxiety struck hard enough for pills to become completely inefficient. Sometimes emotions all came up at once and anger took over as the only feeling that Annabella could put a name on.  
  
There was nothing to do but lay down and wait for it to pass. It was insanely frustrating at first, but she had learnt.‎   
  
“Try to meditate. Let your mind wander free from one thought to another. Focus on tiny things. Try to settle for neutral ideas.”  
  
She had refused to see this doctor again, but the words remained and she kept following. She knew it worked.  
  
Now it was starting again. She didn't understand how she could get in such a state. There was no trigger she knew of; she just started shaking and feeling awfully angry at everything, and intensely depressed, but most of all terrified. The hole in her chest seemed to suddenly become so heavy and impossible to fill, she couldn't fight the certitude imprinted in her that she was about to die.  
  
She had found out that trying to understand why only made things worse.  
She just gave up on everything and laid down, put some music up, closed her eyes.  
  
As time passed she had built a place within. Her starting point was always the same, a small, white sand path towards a valley, and then her mind wandered.  
She started from there and let the music lead her further. She crossed a river, went all the way up a mountain to look at a waterfall from the top of a cliff, before getting down. It took time, and every step was soothing. She encountered animals sometimes, but mostly, she encountered colours. She loved this place. It kept building itself, a never-ending, colourful and peaceful garden.  
  
This time she entered a forest. She took her time detailing the light on the leaves, the raindrops on the grass. She walked patiently, enjoying the feeling of the wind on her face, until she found herself at the entrance of a small clearing.  
The colours there were amazing. They were vibrating, singing, and everything felt so fresh. Annabella felt her heart grow instantly fond of the place. She'd have to remember it. She slowly walked in and a feeling of warmth spread in her chest as she got closer to a single tree standing in the middle. It was orange, and so warm, and the light of the sun between the branches almost made it glow. It was closed upon itself though, like a sprout that had not opened yet. When she stood in front of it and stretched her arm out toward the trunk, the light suddenly became blinding.  
  
She took a step back. The branches unraveled and the tree opened. The colours turned from orange and green to yellow and purple. A figure got out of the tree.  
  
Was she a dryad? Annabella knew her face. She had seen her before. The lady smiled, and walked to her. She didn't move, in awe. There was a feeling she knew there, something familiar. Something so warm she felt her heart starting to burn.  
The lady's face basked in happiness and peacefulness, and the feeling reached to her. She remained still as the lady wrapped her arms around her, in a warm, soothing hug.  
Annabella felt complete.  
  
The music stopped. She gasped and opened her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around herself. The warmth was still here.  
She started crying, deep, warm cries, not restraining any tear. She had to let it out. Something had happen, she had a hard time figuring out what, but she had found something.‎ It didn't take much time for the nurses to reach the room. Her cries had echoed in the corridor. It was fine. She let the cries out, and when the sobbing stopped, she turned to the nurses.  
  
‎“I've met myself. From within. She looked so calm and peaceful. She told me it would be alright in the end. It will be, right?”  
  
The feeling was already vanishing, the warmth was going away, but Annabella knew for sure that this encounter would not be the last one.  
  
It would get better.   
It was fine.


	11. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What are you writing?”  
  
She didn't even know. She didn't really feel like thinking too much about it. It was just one word after another. Her hand was writing something her head was not even thinking about. Sometimes it just went so fast.  
  
Since she last spoke the doctor kept asking for more insight from her.  
  
“You should write. Writing is one of your emotional vectors. Keep doing it. Bring some texts. Make something out of it all.”  
  
She felt like making something out of it all indeed. So she just wrote words the way they came.  
  
She didn't even try to read back after writing. She was rather sure it wouldn't make any sense.  
But she'd keep the texts. It would probably be like these old songs she used to listen without being too attentive: 10 years later she'd suddenly understand the lyrics and love the songs even more.  
  
The writings would make sense in the end.  
Meanwhile she just kept writing.  
Word after word.  
  
“Annabella, why do you have to always write such negative fiction?”  
  
Was it so negative? Her characters were about to die. The world was burning. She didn't even know how she had come to this. She'd find a way to get them out.  
  
The doctor surely would have loads of things to say again. She sighed and stopped writing for a while.  
  
Even when she tried to make it as meaningless as she could it always got back to her. She couldn't wait for her fiction to become slightly less personal and slightly more fictional.


	12. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I can't. I'm sorry, I just can't go there.”   
  
Her friend looked startled.   
  
“What's wrong? You look so pale...”  
“I can't explain. I'm sorry. There is... I can't.”  
  
She could see the place from afar and there was no way she could think of getting closer. She would have never thought it would be so difficult. She thought she was ready.   
  
“Don't worry. Just... go without me. I'll find you back later. I'm just... I'll stay here for a while.”  
  
Her friend looked concerned. They had this plan for ages. He didn't know anything. She didn't want to explain.   
  
“You don't look so good. I'm not sure I...”  
“Please go. I'll catch up later, don't worry, I swear.”  
  
She needed some time with herself. She needed to run away. Something inside her was boiling but she could feel her blood growing colder and colder.  
  
He reluctantly went and she forced herself to stare at him go, before looking carefully at the building. The sun had started to set, giving the place this golden atmosphere she had used to love. She felt sick.   
  
Her legs went weak. She quickly turned around and ran away before falling down, a prey to the vivid memories that were slowly coming back.  
  
She had no choice but to find a quiet, safe place to stay at, to let the images come back and live through it all again. It was too late to push it away. It would take over her sensations. It would not feel nice, it would be awful, she'd probably end up shaking and crying and overfeeling it. It had already started.   
She would have to remain in the dark for a while before taking her medicine. Then maybe she would have enough strength to join her friend, although she probably wouldn't and would have to excuse herself.   
She was starting to understand how it all worked though, and no matter how exhausting it could be, it was almost comforting.‎ One step forward, two steps back. She understood that this time she had tried to go too fast.‎  
  
It was still taking time, but no matter how far back she went, no matter how many times she had to struggle forward, she knew that the steps further would seem easier now she had done them once.‎


	13. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fire.”  
  
‎Sadness and despair had gone, leaving only anger in their trail.  
She had been able to burn the material traces of her anger, but nothing could burn the memories inside her.  
  
So she just summoned fire.  
  
“Fire. Fire.”  
  
She had no choice but to drive the thoughts away as soon as they came up. She had learnt how to picture the fire in her mind.  
The thoughts could come up any time. There was no logic behind them. Her mind was going too fast.  
From a book to a sentence to a word to an item to a memory...   
  
“Fire. Fire. Fire.”  
  
Even some people. She couldn't cross the eyes of some. She couldn't even look at herself in the mirror.   
  
Now every time it happened, she pictures flames in her mind. Sometimes she spent a whole afternoon focusing on her mental flames, because she just couldn't think of anything else.   
  
“Fire. FIRE. **FIRE**.”  
  
It burnt from the inside. If only it could work. If only they could turn to ashes and disappear once and for all.   
They wouldn't. She'd have to learn to accept them, but for now she was still too weak. She had to push them away. To burn, burn, burn...   
  
“ _ **FIIIIIRE**_!”  
  
Her whole head burnt. But at least she wasn't sent back to these scenes.   
  
“Annabella, is everything alright?”  
  
She shook the thoughts away, trying to focus on the conversation. The flames were dancing before her eyes.  
  
Sometimes were tougher than others. These times she just sat in front of the fireplace, the real one, or her mind fireplace, and add some wood into the fire.   
  
"It's fine. All shall pass."   
  
It kept her warm, in the end.


	14. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry but... could we please stop this music?”  
  
She hated when she had to do so. She had learnt, though. Entering a room with dangerous elements: get out. Feeling the illness triggered by said dangers: empty mind, take pills. ‎  
  
They changed the music and she breathed out. Illness avoided. She could remain herself, and not a ghost of herself as she tried to keep her mind inside her body. ‎  
  
It was meant to get better as time passed. Sure, she had learnt how to deal with it. But it didn't get better. There still were the overwhelming panic attacks; she just managed to keep them inside, rationalize them and let them pass. They still hurt like Hell. She still couldn't do the things she wanted. She still had to avoid some sounds and some places.   
She still felt like she was out of her body, mind, place, cold and restless sometimes. ‎  
  
She had let go of despair, and now she was just plain angry at how unfair all of this was. Prisoner of her own mind, she had to restrain from so many things. She wanted out, but every time she tried she ended up crying and puking. Most of the time she couldn't even grasp the memory that made her feel that way. It was like a constant, meaningless illness with no reason to be.  
‎  
“Doctor, it has been a long time. It should be over now. Why is it not over yet? Where are the things that are lost? Why haven't they come back? Why can't I listen to music? Why can't I play anymore? Why can't I go back to places I love? I feel like a part of me is missing.”  
  
Her therapist sighed.   
  
“There's so much you and I can do, Annabella. You already have made a lot of steps forward. Some things will come back later. Maybe you have to forget everything about them before. Maybe they won't come back and you'll have to live with it. You're already learning and rebuilding yourself.”  
  
Annabella was dumbstruck. She remained still for a while, then stood up, got out of the room, and slammed the door.  
  
Helplessness drove her mad. There was no way she would learn to live with this anxiety. It was not something that was meant to be a part of her. She knew her real self, the one from before, it was still calling her from within. She had managed to live through it all, she had found a sort of new balance. People from the outside couldn't tell what was happening inside her and it was her first victory.  
  
Now she would get her revenge over all this unfairness. She would play again.


	15. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a blessing that she had found back paper and pens.   
  
Her mind had been buzzing for hours, with confusion and horror. Future and past had been mixed up. She had lost her landmarks for a while. She didn't know where and when she was anymore. Top-notch anxiety delivered by a dreadful day to come.  
  
After the physical crisis, she tried to stop the tears and shaking the best she could.  
  
“I'm fine. It's not true. It's in my head.”  
  
Nothing made it better. Being rational couldn't always work.  
  
She knew the solution but dreaded it. Facing the crisis. Making something out of it.   
  
“Creation is your outdoor. Creation and time will make things better.”  
  
Time was not working, it seemed. She settled for creation. Although she didn't know what to create. She didn't want to do something beautiful this time. She just wanted to let it out.  
She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.  
  
 _Let me breathe_ , she wrote. Then, having found her starting point, she just let her hand go wild.  
 _I won't drown again. Don't touch me, don't talk to me. Don't come closer._  
 _You are nothing. I am me, I am better than you'll ever be._  
 ** _I will burn the flower away from my core._**  
  
Colors and feelings mixed on a torn paper. Hatred in the shape of a rainbow text that no one would ever be able to read.  
It was fine. Let it out. No one had to take it in afterwards. She was alone with herself and that was the only way she could deal with it. No one could help when she was facing the black monsters in her mind. Nothing but colors.  
  
 _I will let this memory die the way they tried to let me die._  
  
Annabella went on with filling the paper. Then she tore it up, threw it away, and took a deep breath. She was free. For now.


	16. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I want to go.”  
“It's only running away, you know?”  
“Is it? I don't know. I'm fed up with this place. There are too many things holding me here. I want to see new horizons, experience new adventures.”  
“Where would you go then?”  
“Who cares where I go as long as I'm going? I just want to see novelty. I must prove myself that I am able to do it. Try new things.”  
  
She knew she wouldn't get rid of the past. She didn't want to anymore. She just wanted to create new memories. So that this time, when the past comes back, there'd be more than pills to soothe her. More than the memory of the doctor's voice, too. There would be memories she had built up by herself and she could invoke to struggle against anxiety.   
  
Tiny victories that in themselves wouldn't help her live, but would help her get out of the prison of her mind.

“It's risky.”  
“I know. That's the point.”  
  
Annabella straightened her backpack on her shoulder and started strolling in the unknown city. These new memories started now. She couldn't wait.   
  
“So you'll be leaving...”  
“As soon as possible. Taking as little as possible.”  
“Will you come back?”  
“Surely. But it will take time. _A lot of time_.”


	17. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Memories came. Memories went. Time had passed. After breaking up with her therapist and getting out of the hospital, Annabella stopped speaking again. Except to herself. She was facing things alone. Never would she allow herself to depend on anyone anymore.  
  
And yet she started opening up again, slowly. Trying to learn out of the world around her, to build up new memories, to distance herself from her past.   
  
“You keep on getting the big picture. Why don't you just try to step sideways sometimes? Look. What do you see?”  
  
They were on the sidewalk and the only thing she could see was a busy city, buzzing crowd, grey landscape.   
  
“Look at the light here. This is what I see. The light getting reflected on the building. The amazing atmosphere it creates. This small corner is glowing. Sometimes you have to focus on such tiny things to find your place in the big picture.”  
  
Not everything coming from others was bad. She kept the words and tried to train, from time to time, by herself. She learnt to step sideways.  
  
And now here she was, lost in nature, lost in her thoughts. Everything seemed so menacing, inside her head and outside--she didn't even know where she was.   
  
A light caught her eye and she stopped wandering. She stepped sideways. Suddenly she could see new things. Black and colors, a small, dreamy scenery in a huge and scary, unfamiliar land.   
  
Annabella was not as terrified anymore. Right here, right now, she felt content, the warmth slowly filling her heart.   
  
That was alright. She was lost, so what? She would find her way eventually. Sometimes losing yourself was the only way to find what was missing.


	18. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
Lies.‎ All lies.  
  
She was caught, entwined in a spider web of sentences going through her head. Once again the waters inside were getting higher, higher, higher... she was drowning inside. She was so cold.  
  
  
This time there would be no one to save her. No doctor, no nurse. She knew she could take the pills but something from within was preventing her. It wasn't "enough". It didn't hurt "enough" to justify medicine. " ** _At least I'm not the one who took the pills._** " Above all the sentences, one voice. One face she was doomed to see there and then.  
Triggers could take various shapes. She had learnt, she had been walking; this one she couldn't face though.  
  
“Don't get any closer.”  
  
She had built her life upon trust.   
  
“I don't want to be loved anymore.”  
  
She had no trust to give now.   
  
“I can't trust anyone not to hurt me ever more.”  
  
Why would she have thought she could trust in the first place?   
  
“I hate you.”  
  
Nothing was coherent, nothing was clear. Once a word, then another. Never the truth.   
  
“I hate myself.”   
  
Too many faces, too many lies. ‎   
  
“It's always _you_.”  
  


Shifting sentences, making words say what was needed, so she would get even more stuck into the web.  
  
She was so cold. Her whole body and mind. She looked at herself and the whole situation.  
  
She didn't want to take the pills. She couldn't. Not again. She threw them across the room and let her body fall down. The prison was her mind this time, the memories a cage. She couldn't find the path back to her garden. She needed darkness for a while.  
  
  
She howled and gave up. Her body fainted.  
  
Time could help deal with lots of things from the outside. But Annabella still had to face her final fight with the enemy inside.  
  
  
And this time she wouldn't count on anyone to help her. Strength had to come from within her, no matter how many more times she'd have to fall into darkness.


	19. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When she woke up, her mind felt a little lighter...but the pain was still here.  
  
The words were going round in her head. It was so clear now that they were not coming from the outside anymore. They were inside her and she had to find a way to break the web. “When will it stop?” She had no one to ask the question to. She already knew the answer. It was not a matter of time.  
It never stops. It never goes. You learn to live with it. And then someday it may seem less important, let you almost forget about it, until the next time.  
  
So many words had been said.  
“Manipulation.”  
“Perverse relationship.”  
"Fear of abandon."  
“Identity crisis.”  
“Burnout.”  
“Split personality.”  
“Narcissistic disorder.”  
“Amnesia.”  
“Childhood depression.”  
“Loss of trust.”  
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”  
  
Words were only words. They helped label things without giving any solution. They just wrote themselves in her book, part of a story that was still unravelling.  
  
Now she just had to let the story go and follow sentence by sentence.  
She was the main character, but not the only one. There were other characters around her. Bad characters were needed to make the good ones shine even more. Some were good and tainted. Some were to disappear.   
  
She had found her deeper self inside her, too, the one she could confide in when everything was lost. This one she could trust.  
  
Time had passed and it never stopped.  
  
She was still afraid of water.  
She was still scared of the hospital drip.  
  
Sentences kept echoing in her head and the face could still haunt her nightmare.  
  
Some sounds were still intolerable, vectors of terrible anxiety without her even understanding why.  
But she didn't try to understand anymore. It just came and went.  
  
  
Maybe she had lost faith. Maybe her real trust was close to impossible to acquire.  
  
  
But tonight she was playing the piano again. And no voice in her head was loud enough to cover the songs of her memories--those she forgot, those she found back, those she'd never remember but would always remain inside her.   
  
“I'm back. **I'm home**.”  
  
This song would end with a major chord.

**Author's Note:**

> The end of the song is not the end of the story itself, but this is where its written parts stop. Thanks for following Annabella through this journey.
> 
> As a post-scriptum, here's a final anecdote.  
> It took me a few months before I realised that, back then, my therapist's name was Annabelle.
> 
> If you liked Annabella's journey, please know that you can also buy it as a physical book. I made a few in 2017:  
>   
> There are leftovers, so don't hesitate to ask--they're Pay What You Want and all the money goes to the artist who did the cover, [Soniop](https://www.deviantart.com/soniop) (who has also made an amazing series of mental illness-related arts that is super moving, and is now specializing in space arts)


End file.
